And yet Count Garci's strong right hand In an evil day and an hour of woe That lady false, his bale and bane. There was feasting and joy in Count Aymerique's bower, When he with triumph, and pomp, and pride, Brought home the adult'ress like a bride : His daughter only sate in her tower, She sate her in lonely tower alone, And for her dead mother she made her moan. "Methinks," said she," my father for me A stepmother he brings hither instead, Count Aymerique will not his daughter should wed, But he brings home a leman for his own bed." So thoughts of good and thoughts of ill Were working thus in Abba's will; And Argentine with evil intent Ever to work her woe was bent; That still she sate in her tower alone, And in that melancholy gloom, When for her mother she made her moan, She watches the pilgrims and poor who wait "I would some knight were there," thought she, "Disguised in pilgrim-weeds for me! For Aymerique's blessing I would not stay, She watches her handmaid the pittance deal, They took their dole and went away; But yonder is one who lingers still As though he had something in his will, Some secret which he fain would say ; And close to the portal she sees him go, He talks with her handmaid in accents low; Oh then she thought that time went slow, And long were the minutes that she must wait Till her handmaid came from the castle-gate. From the castle-gate her handmaid came, And told her that a Knight was there, Who sought to speak with Abba the fair, Count Aymerique's beautiful daughter and heir. She bade the stranger to her bower; His stature was tall, his features bold; A goodlier form might never maid At tilt or tourney hope to see; And though in pilgrim-weeds arrayed, And his arms in them enfold As they were robes of royalty. He told his name to the damsel fair, She took the hand that Garci gave, And then she knew the tale was true, For she saw the warrior's hand so white, And she knew the fame of the beautiful Knight. 2. 'Tis the hour of noon, The bell of the convent hath done, And the Sexts are begun ; The Count and his leman are gone to their meat. They look to their pages, and lo they see The ewer, and bason, and napkin bore ; And next to the Lady Argentine The Lady Argentine the while A haughty wonder felt ; Her face put on an evil smile; "I little thought that I should see |